


Like Fish in a Bowl

by maderi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Swimming Pools, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 18:59:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderi/pseuds/maderi
Summary: Swimming.How had this ever been a good idea?*Stiles signs up for swimming lessons. A very yummy Derek turns out to be his coach. To say that Stiles is screwed, would be the understatement of the year.





	Like Fish in a Bowl

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my amazing betas for the incredible help I got with this one. I'm forever grateful to you <3

Stiles entered the swimming area with a stomach full of knots. Once, he had thought it a great idea, but as the day drew nearer, that brilliant decision of his just seemed more and more like a nightmare. 

“I’m guessing you’re Stiles, right?” A deep voice to his right said. 

He almost swallowed his tongue as the man walked closer to him, hand outstretched in a greeting. The guy had to be closing in on six feet, swimming trunks plastered to his thick, muscled thighs, outlining a big...

“Uh Stiles?” The man waved his hand to get Stiles’ attention. 

He could kick himself. Stiles knew his pale face was now sporting a pink tint, which he had no doubt was growing darker by the second. 

“Yeah, uh yes. That’s me,” he stuttered out, eventually looking up to meet green eyes. 

Derek Hale. Derek fricking Hale. Of course, it had to be him. For when had Stiles’ life ever been simple? He’d been drooling over Derek since the beginning of time. Well, at least since the beginning of his time. Stiles snickered to himself. 

“You alright there?” Derek asked him. “I’m Derek. I’ll be your swimming coach.”

“Yup!” Stiles answered quickly, popped. “Just peachy.”

“From what I read, you’re not too comfortable with water, right?” Derek asked. 

“Swimming and me is like oil and water. Water and oil? Anyway, I’m the oil. Or would I be the water?” Stiles kept on muttering to himself about water and oil for a bit before Derek smiled and interrupted him. 

“I think I understand what you’re trying to say there” Derek’s smile was warm and --oh god-- Stiles was utterly fucked. 

“So FBI, huh? Didn’t know swimming was a skillset you’d have to have there.” The green-eyed Adonis before him continued, but all Stiles could do was stare. 

He was definitely fucked. 

*

By the time Stiles crawled into bed, he was exhausted. He’d spent the better part of an hour paddling around like a dog, while small children swam around him. No, scratch that. He’d spent the better part of that hour trying to hide a raging hard-on from Derek’s eyes. 

It hadn’t been easy, not with Derek’s body sliding against his own, not with Derek’s big hands grabbing his waist to hold him afloat. It had been the worst hour of Stiles’ existence. 

Stiles was about to thank his lucky stars, devoted to never seeing Derek again when the man in question had smiled at him and said that he needed more practice. Stiles was about to tell Derek where he could shove it when instead, the words “See you then!” fell out of his mouth. 

Tomorrow. Stiles had to meet Derek at the pool tomorrow. For a moment, he wondered if it was possible to drown in a bed, two stories up. It had to be possible, right? 

“You alright there, Stiles?” His dad asked, popping his head around the door to his bedroom. 

“Splendid,” he replied sarcastically, “In fact, I’ve never been better.”

His father laughed almost soundlessly, before walking over to his bed. Stiles felt his bed dip a little as the older man sat down beside him. It had always been his father and him ever since his mother died. Stiles’ dad had always tried his best to be understanding of his spastic son; had supported him where other parents would have given up, and for that, Stiles loved his father deeply. 

“I’ve had the worst day of my life.” Stiles sighed in defeat when his father’s hand landed on his back, rubbing small circles. 

“I take it the swimming didn’t go well?” 

“That depends on your definition of ‘well’, dad.” Stiles mumbled into his pillow, still refusing to look at his father. 

“I define it as something going your way. What do you define it as?” His father asked with a smile in his voice. 

“Do you know who the swimming coach is?” Stiles asked. 

“The Hale kid. What about him?”

“The Hale kid. Of course, it had to be the Hale kid.” He mimics, smacking his hands over his head. 

“Stiles?” His father pushed when he’d been quiet for a while. 

“Do you know which Hale kid, dad?” Stile whispered. 

His father was quiet for a while, trying to connect which of the Hales was coaching the swimmers, and who wasn’t. Stiles finally turned around slightly, his father still deep in thoughts. Understanding finally fell on his father’s face and he grinned down at Stiles.  
“Derek, huh?” The smile was nothing shit of shit eating. “Still crushing on him?”

“You’re absolutely horrible, you know that? I don’t know how you sleep at night.” Stiles mumbles, turning his head to sulk in his pillow once more. 

“Aww come on, kid.” His father laughs, his hand grabbing hold of Stiles’ neck and squeezes comfortingly. 

Stiles does find comfort in his father’s actions. It’s their own secret language, one that always makes Stiles land on his own two feet. He turns around once more, grabbing his pillow and holding it tightly to his chest. 

“He’s still hot, dad.” He whispers in defeat. 

“Mhm.” His father hums in acknowledgment, giving Stiles enough time to collect his chaotic thoughts. 

“He... he doesn’t remember me, dad.” is the meek words that finally leave his lips.

“You know, kid, not everyone is alright with loving someone of the same sex. It’s a flying shame that so many are closed off to it, but I’m afraid it’s just something we have to accept.” His father was quiet for what seemed like hours before he carefully said the words that Stiles had been dreading.

“I know.” 

“It might just be that you’re not his type. A sarcastic, little spaz can’t be for everyone.” His father added with a laugh as he ruffled Stiles’ hair. 

“Tell you what, let’s go get some curlies and a milkshake, yeah?”

Stiles perked up at that. He loved curly fries, but at once saw through his father’s intentions. 

“I can get some curlies while you get a salad and some water.” He added as a matter of fact. 

“Sure, sure.” Was the deep belly-laugh he got in reply before his father rose from the bed. “Five minutes, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles smiled.

*

Once more Stiles stood outside the door leading to the pool area, he was hellbent on not going, but here he stood. Like a lamb about to enter the lion’s den. Pushing the door open, Stiles padded away over to the furthest corner of the big room. There was no sign of Derek yet, and a small bud of hope blossomed in his chest. 

Three seconds later, that little bud withered and died as Derek’s voice met him. He looked as delicious as he did yesterday, but today, the swimming trunks were replaced by the tightest little speedo Stiles had ever seen on a grown ass man. The dark blue fabric was plastered so skin tight to Derek’s hips that nothing, absolutely nothing was left to the imagination.

Stiles swallowed so hard he choked, bowing forward as cough after cough forced its way out of his throat. His eyes were burning, tears rolling, as he gasped for air. Short seconds later, Derek was at his side. A thick, bare thigh came into Stiles’ line of sight and heat blossomed in his lower abdomen like an inferno. Derek’s attempt at comfort was having the opposite effect though as Stiles could feel the beginning of a panic attack crawl over him.

“Stiles, just breathe. Slow, deep breaths now.” Derek’s soothing voice washes over him.  
They count down from fifty together, Derek staying close by him, holding his hand and making Stiles stare into his eyes as they breathed together. It was almost as effective as his father’s hugs, calming him way faster than anyone else could. 

“You’ll be fine, Stiles. Just fine.” Derek mumbled to himself as he sat in front of Stiles. 

“I eh.... I think I’ll just go home.” Stile finally says, voice almost inaudible. 

He knows what he must look like right now. Face flushed and sweaty, hands as cold as ice. He must really look desirable right now. But then again, what chance did he have to begin with? 

*

Stiles went back to bed after breakfast, not really keen on facing the new day ahead. He’d never felt as humiliated as he did now. The embarrassment riding his ass hard, where he lay on his bed. 

A knock on his door tore him from his depressive thoughts a few hours later. He turned his head and mumbled something under his breath, not bothering to do much else. Though when Derek stepped into his bedroom, Stiles managed to gracefully fall out of bed. Quite spectacularly, if he said so himself. 

“Hi.” Derek said, raising his hand in a greeting. 

The silence hung heavy between them where Stiles still lay in a heap on the floor, staring up at Derek. By some miracle, he finally managed to get up on his own two feet, pulling his baggy shirt down to right himself. 

“Uh...Hi Der...eh Derek.” 

“I just wanted to check in on you. Make sure that you were feeling alright and all.” Derek said, an adorable pink tint dusting his cheeks. 

“I’m fine. Fine-Fine. More than fine actually. I’m spectac-” Stiles babbled but was interrupted by Derek shouting his name. 

“Are you alright?” He asked again. 

“I...- My ego got a hard blow, but other than that, I’m fine, yes.” Stiles managed to get out, a hand scratching at the back at his nape, while he tried very hard to look at anything other than Derek. 

“I have panic attacks too.” Derek says suddenly, looking quite sheepish. “They’re nothing to feel embarrassed about.”

“I’m not emba..- What I mean..-” Stiles tried but failed miserably. 

Derek, kind and patient Derek just stood there, waiting for Stiles to collect his thoughts. Waiting for Stiles to collect himself. Because of course, he did, why wouldn’t he? He was Derek Fricking Hale. 

“C-coffee.” Derek stutters after a few minutes of silence. 

It takes Stiles completely by surprise. Derek looks even more sheepish than he did a few moments ago. Nervous even. The dusting of pink on his cheeks had become a full out blush now, but Stiles doesn’t quite manage to understand the words coming out of Derek’s beautiful mouth. 

“You. Co-coffee. Me?” Derek tries again but growls when he can’t weave together more than staccato words. 

Derek is swearing beneath his breath, ready to leave the room when Stiles finally register the word and make sense of it. He’s so shocked he has to ask.  
“You want to take me for coffee?” Stiles asks, voice full of wonder. 

“Y-yeah.” Derek replied sheepishly, scratching at the hair in the back of his nape. 

“To coffee?” Stiles pushes. 

“On a date.” Is the muttered reply that leaves Derek’s lips, his blush deepening. 

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. After everything he’s done, after every failed attempt at being desirable, Stiles’ dream man was standing before him, in his bedroom he might add, asking him out on a date. 

“I...- Shit. Sorry. Just uh.. Forget I said anything.” Derek said angrily as he turned to leave. 

“Yes!” Stiles finally manage to bark out. “Derek! Derek, wait.”

The hand on the back of Derek’s henley is there before Stiles knows what he’s doing. Warmth spreads through his forehead and a wonderful smell invades his nose. When he looks in front of him, Stiles can see that he’s plastered his forehead to Derek’s back. Derek is warm, so warm, and his heartbeat is matching Stiles’ own frantic beat.

“Yes.” Stiles whispers into the warm back in front of him. “Yes, please.”

Derek noticeably deflates before him, a small laugh leaving his lips. He turns in Stiles’ hold, folding his arms around Stiles as he rests his head on top of Stiles’. They stay like that until their heartbeats have calmed down again. Derek is still unnaturally warm, but Stiles can’t find it in him to care. It’s nice like this. 

“Thank you.” is whispered into his fluffy hair and the arms holding Stiles close to Derek’s chest, tightens momentarily. 

Stiles just laughs at the absurdity of the scene they must make. He guessed a sarcastic little spaz was Derek’s type after all. If anything, the man holding him tight would have his hands full trying to rein Stiles in. But then again, maybe that’s what Derek liked about him. 

Squeezing Derek harder, Stiles smiled as he heard Derek’s heart skip a beat before the man in question smelled his hair and let out a long, low moan. Stiles, well Stiles was on top of the moon. Smiling, he closed his eyes as he rested his head against the warm chest of Derek Hale. 

~ End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :-)


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